


Unseen World

by KDlala



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Body Horror, Fantasy, Gen, Horror, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-17
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 08:18:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KDlala/pseuds/KDlala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The surface of the world you see is only the first layer of many, a skin over those unseen worlds within.  They're hidden from you for your own good.  Dante?  He tries to keep that first layer from breaking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Late at Night

It's just the two of them in her apartment late into the night. Dante and Fara.

The lights are all dimmed in the apartment save for the lamp on her desk, the shade angled so the light falls directly over the manuscript she's bent over. Makes it easier for her to pick out words among the faded lines of demonic scripture. The apartment seems eerily quiet, as if the air itself is holding its breath in anticipation of what will come from those hellish scrawls. Everything is very still except for Dante's shifting and the occasional odd ringing sound when Fara adjusts the stone set into the middle of the band clapped around her forehead.

Dante's standing directly behind her. Patience isn't a virtue of his, and the waiting is driving him to distraction. He fidgets so much that every time he bends over her shoulder to get a closer look she growls at him and tells him to back the hell off. He shoots her a grin she can't see every time and obeys, if only for a few minutes.

Eventually Fara gets so irritated by it that when he peeks over her shoulder again she lifts an elbow and plows it into his side. Not that it does any good. She's a tiny thing and any strike she makes against Dante is like hitting a rock. She sits up straight, tossing a blank eyed glare over her shoulder, those unseeing eyes always fixing eerily on their target, the irises the color of good red wine. She points to a cabinet across the room. "Get yourself some whiskey and quit crowding me."

"Like I don't already know where your liquor is," Dante grumbles a bit but moves across the room and lets her read, unable to really get annoyed because, after all, she always has very good liquor.

"Shut up."

"Everything is always in order too. And marked!"

Fara says something under her breath in a language he doesn't know but he can guess what she's saying isn't complimentary. He watches her silently as she continues to read, tangled black hair obscuring her face as she bends over. He'd always thought it was kind of funny. Born blind and dedicated to a life of a scholar.

Of course when he'd pointed out the humor of it, she'd commented on how sad it was he had to have a blind woman do his reading for him.

No sense of humor, that woman.

Fara finally leans back from her perusal and rubs her temples. The effort of focusing through the stone always gives her a headache. "It's not from the demon world," she informs him.

Dante pauses in pouring his third shot of whiskey, turning to look at her. "Those markings…"

"Are demonic," Fara is already nodding grimly. "And the writing itself is infused with power. Dante, this couldn't have been written by anything less than a major demon. It's not possible. Any human that tried to write it would have gone stark raving mad after a few words."

Dante sets his glass down. His voice is calm, almost thoughtful. They make an odd picture, facing each other across the room. The man tall and powerful and pale haired, the woman dark haired and delicate as bone china. "But if a demon wrote it and it didn't come from the demon world…"

Fara, of course, can't simply let it rest there, she has to explain. "The smell and sense of it is off, it would have reflected the power contained there if it had been written in the same place. And it would have been much more powerful."

Dante continues on as if he hasn't heard her. "Then where the hell did it come from?"

This time her answer is simple. Troubled. "I don't know."


	2. Lady

"So, you new around here?"

The man leans on the bar next to her on one elbow. She glances at him out of the corner of her eye, takes in the wide smile filled with dazzlingly white teeth, the fashionably tanned skin, the buttoned shirt with the top buttons oh, so carefully undone, the easy "I'm a personable sonofabitch" manner. Casual chic. Cut him and he'll bleed Ralph Lauren aftershave.

Not that she'll get a chance to try that, more is the pity.

Her silence isn't enough to deter him. If anything, his smile gets wider. Likes a challenge, he does. "It's just that I haven't seen you around before, and I know everyone in this town." Of course he does, and everyone knows him, his tone says.

She still doesn't look at him, taking a drink. Soda water at the moment. She's working.

He continues, undaunted. "I'm sure I would have noticed you before." Perfect, delivering the compliment smooth as a horn on the devil's brow.

Thing is, it's probably true. She's a woman that garners notice. Despite the scars, or maybe because of them. When she finally turns her head to regard him coolly, he finds himself wondering almost dreamily what that soft black hair framing her face would look like fanned against a pillow.

Her eyes narrow as if she's sensing what he's thinking and doesn't appreciate it in the slightest. He sharpens his smile a bit. "My apartment is just down the street."

She snorts and turns her head away.

"Oh, now, miss, what a dirty mind you have," he almost pounces with the words, eyes twinkling with good cheer.

She can almost hear Dante's voice in her head begging her to punch him.

"I was only mentioning it because you may have heard of it. The old Holloway building." He pauses, waiting for some sort of acknowledgement, and continuing on anyway when he doesn't get it. "One of the only honest to God haunted buildings in the state."

There, he's showing that he's rich, popular, and brave enough to live in a haunted building. Sure enough, it gets her attention, bringing those duel colored eyes back around to rest on him. "Oh?" Her voice is as cool as her expression but there's something in those eyes.

He assumes its interest and leans forward. "No bull. A cult lived there years ago, used to do weird sacrifices. Makes for a spooky place but I've seen so much around, I'm kind of jaded to everything that goes on there." Jaded, worldly, mysterious.

She considers his words for a long while and decides it's worth a look. Pasting an eager smile on her face she leans toward him a little bit, tolerates his peek down the front of her shirt. "Show me…"

He gallantly flips a bill onto the bar top to pay for both their drinks and escorts her out, congratulating himself. Hopefully something really freaky will happen and she'll be so scared she'll run to him, ripe for the taking.

And Lady is hoping she doesn't have to fight to save this asshole…and kind of hoping something will end up eating him.

She's only human, after all.


	3. Down This Street Before

Dante turns heads.

It's rather hard not to notice him when he's just walking down the street. It isn't just his clothing, though the bright red trench-coat certainly keeps him from blending in with the crowd. It isn't physical, that inhuman beauty of his form and features. Nor is it the fact he doesn't feel any particular need to hide the weapons that are his constant companions. That huge sword at his back in particular is hard to ignore, overcompensation jokes notwithstanding.

But no, it isn't anything about is appearance in particular that draws eyes to Dante. It is the way the air around him seems to hum with barely contained energy. There is no way to look at him and not know he's something other than this world, no matter how human he looks. It draws some to him and repels most.

He doesn't look up as he walks, frowning at the ground thoughtfully. It's only when he hears a group ahead that he finally lifts his eyes. Not demons. Protestors.

He grunts in irritation and moves to circle around the group standing in front of a building and blocking the sidewalk. On another day he might just plow through them on general principle but he can't be bothered today. He catches a glimpse of signs in their hands, isn't sure what they're protesting this time, doesn't care. He steps out on the street only to find an earnest looking woman keeping pace with him, waving a pamphlet in his face, pushing it at him and trying to get him to take it. "Accept Christ as your lord and savior!" He's not taking the pamphlet. Determined to do her duty, the woman plants herself in front of him and proclaims grandly; "Without Jesus in your life, the bowels of Hell await you."

That finally gets a glance from Dante, who pats her on the shoulder comfortingly as he moves her aside. "Don't worry, I've been there. It's not so bad, really."

* * *

He's through the city and into the slums before he realizes the streets have changed.

He pauses, frowning, turning his head to look at a building to his left. For a moment he thinks he might have gone down the wrong street.

But no. That building there, with the upper windows smashed. He'd gotten jumped by a group of demons there. And right across from it there's a green car with its tires slashed that no one had bothered to tow yet. He could swear he'd been further into the slums when that fight went down. Near where he'd found the alter and the manuscript inside it.

Puzzled, alert, he continues down the street, hands shoved into his pockets.

He glances toward the sign his passing on his right. Bakker Street, yeah he's headed in the right direction.

He keeps thinking about what Fara told him. She hasn't finished translating all of the manuscript yet and what she has translated she's puzzled by and very disturbed. Very little disturbs Fara.

Dante glances up again to figure out which way to turn and stops when he sees the street name on the sign.

Bakker Street.

He whips around and stares down the road. There's the green car, and the building. Or so he thinks.

Because the broken window isn't there anymore. The sheet of glass glitters in the sun, reflecting the afternoon light.

"What the hell…?" Dante turns back and catches a glimpse of the street sign again.

Forum Blvd.

Dante narrows his eyes and glares around. He hates this mind game shit. It's so much more simple when they just attack. "Don't want me paying a second visit? People might think you have something to hide."

No answer. The whole street suddenly seems overly bright, fake, like a cheerful set held up by two by fours. A slick, glossy coat of paint over rotted wood. Or something rotten, at least.

"There's a fun image…" Dante turns slowly in a circle. His guns are out and he doesn't remember pulling them, instincts honed over a hundred battles kicking into gear without him having to think about it.

But nothing is _there_. That's the thing. There's nothing to indicate there's a demon sneaking up on him from any side, no tension in the air, no smells that are off. Nothing except that sense of wrongness around him. Flashes of something in that blind spot out of the corner of his eye that no matter how fast he turns never shows itself.

"You were a lot more fun when you were spouting demons out at me." Dante isn't sure who he's addressing now, some unseen entity or the street itself.

Stupid, really, how can a street be alive?

Dante keeps his guns out as he turns and heads back down the street determinedly. He hangs a left. Bakker Street again. Next block over, the sign reads Forum Blvd. And that's how it stays as he walks in a straight line down the middle of the street, eyes on the signs.

Bakker, Forum, Bakker, Forum, Bakker, Bakker, Bakker, Forum, Forum, Bakker…

He never sees anything change, can't pick out a pattern, and when he looks back there's that same crossway again. The car. The building. Several times the car is undamaged, then its back to having its tires slashed again. The window breaks and fixes and breaks again without a sound.

He finally stops, frustrated, feeling that half crazed sensation that comes with being lost in a maze.

However he'd tracked the cult here the other night is obviously not working now. He has an uneasy feeling the whole damned street isn't working now. Whatever that means.

"Have it your way." Dante turns around again and heads in the opposite direction, the way he came.

The broken window shards glitter in the sunlight. The car almost slumps in its spot on its flat, flayed tires. The leaning, defeated neighborhood seems to relax somehow as he moves past the building back toward the city. Ahead he can hear a group of children laughing and the faint sound of a train passing through.

Dante runs his fingers through his hair, pushing strands of silver out of his face, and considers. The direct approach is a failure, which pisses him off but what can you do? Looks like a bit of snooping is in order, at least until Fara finishes the translation, which might clarify things.

Or fuck things up even more. At the moment, he isn't sure which it will be.


	4. Dante's Office

Fara can see very little through her eyestone. It turns the blackness that is her usual world into a blurry mass of grey and black she can push through enough to read ancient manuscripts and writings and pictographs, the ones she can't have any human describe to her or they'd go mad. She needs light and minimal distractions to do it and the strain always leaves her fatigued and with a pounding headache. She pays it gladly for the knowledge she gains.

It's always bad after focusing for a long time but she was worried about letting Dante walk into this blind. Not that that's _ever_ stopped him before.

Air always helps her head a little bit and she knows she won't be able to sleep, so she takes her translation notes, tucking the recorder into her pack, and slides a pair of sunglasses on. In this day and age she's often able to get away with not hiding her eyes in the general public but she doesn't want to bother with it today.

Her walking stick taps against the sidewalk and she's surrounded by sound. Sound is the guide she steers herself by. When she first came to the city it drove her nuts, picking up every conversation for a good many feet around, able to pick up on words with uncanny ability. She got used to it but there are still times it feels like the air is flowing sound into her ears, filling up her head to bursting.

On the other hand, it's also a gift that has Dante making it a goal to sneak up on her. He hasn't managed it yet.

Fara makes her way down the street, the sounds of laughter and talking and the music of street performers on the corner swirling around her. She lives in what she's heard people call a 'bohemian' neighborhood, or an 'artistic' one, or, ala Dante, "where rich kids can drink coffee with their pinkies in the air and no one thinks it's weird". Lots of odd people around so no one really pays her much heed or makes too much of a fuss about odd sounds or occurrences once in a while. Much like Dante's neighborhood where, she is convinced, the people must live in some kind of constant denial.

She counts her footsteps silently. She has it memorized by now. She doesn't expect his office door to be locked and she's correct, no matter how many times she or Trish or even Enzo gripe at him about it. But then again she doesn't know many people who'd be willing to piss Dante off for the meager stuff he has in his office, either.

She calls out as she enters, but as she expected her voice echoes through the empty room. Not home.

Her foot crushes something as she moves towards the desk and she blinks, kneeling down. She rolls her eyes when she realizes it's a pizza box and rises again, kicking it aside. From the sound of it bumping against something else and other boxes she steps on, she gathers the floor is probably littered with them. She makes a note to create some kind of spell to repel roaches and vermin and give it to him. Even if he doesn't use it, hearing him grumble about it will be fun.

Her hand brushes against the desk and she carefully feels her way over it. There's the phone. Papers. There's the goofy paperweight that looks like an eight ball she believes he said Trish gave him. She reaches the blotter set into the desk and sets the recorder with the translation down. As she's lifting her hand her fingers brush another object on the desk and she pauses, touching it lightly. That, she knows, is the picture of his mother. It has to be because she gave him that frame for it for his birthday.

Eva.

Fara lets her fingers rest against the cool edge of the frame, not touching it because she doesn't want to smear the glass. She'd known Dante for years before he'd finally mentioned his mother. She'd already known about her, of course. Anyone interested in ancient studies or the demon world knew the legend of Sparda. The Legendary Dark Knight. The Traitor. The father Dante had never really known.

She suspected it was pity for the longing in her voice when she'd asked about his mother that had made him tell her. Her own mother was a succubus, a demon she wouldn't have recognized in any way if their paths ever crossed. She'd only carried and birthed a human spawned child because of a deal the demons had with her family back for generations, mixing demonic magic into their bloodline. Almost if not all of the children spawned within that blood line were at least part demon, and hadn't Dante been interested in _that_ little tidbit of information.

But to carry a demon's children…twins no less…birth them, and raise them, not out of duty. Not because it had been forced on her, but willingly, out of _love_ ….

What an extraordinary woman she must have been.

What a brave and compassionate woman, to win the love of a demon such as Sparda. To raise someone like Dante, half demon and yet one of the only honest to God _good_ people she's ever met. And she knows it's Eva's fire that burns in Dante. She's heard it in his voice when he speaks of her, the devotion behind the words.

The phone rings. Dante calling his own office, that's a new one. Fara straightens the picture with a care that's almost reverence and reaches for the phone, feeling around until she finds it and lifting it to her ear. "If you keep on eating pizza twenty four hours a day you're going to lose your girlish figure," she informs him.

Dante is silent for a beat. "One, what are you doing there. And two, how the hell do you _do_ that?"

"Do what?"

"With your own phone I always thought only a few people call you so you just guess every time you pick it up, but with my phone?"

"La, la, la, it's maaaaagic."

"Ha, fucking, ha, now tell me."

"Why I'm in your office? To drop off the translations."

"I'm waiting."

"Because you are the only one stupid enough to call your own phone."

"Liar. Trish mentioned she might stop by the past week so I check in every now and again, in case you care."

Fara's smile fades as she hears the tension underneath his voice. "What's wrong?"

Dante is silent again for a long moment. When he speaks again, Fara listens as he describes his attempt to get back to the manuscript's resting place.

Now it's Fara's turn to be silent as she goes over things in her head. "Curiouser and curiouser…"

"No Alice in Wonderland references, please."

"Sorry, forgot," Fara rakes a hand through her hair. "Dante, I don't like this at all. I've never heard of a demon that can do shit like that…"

"There are demons with little funhouses and lairs they change all over the world," he reminds her.

"Yes, but they _built_ those. There's a difference between being able to control something you or your master created, it's an entirely different thing to do it to a street in a city filled with humans without anyone knowing."

Dante's voice goes sharp. "Wait, are you thinking this thing…whatever it is, could just pick any random part of the city and change it around?"

"How the hell should I know?" She growls, more at herself than him. "Although it explains a few things about that damned manuscript."

"Such as?"

"I can't explain it over the phone."

He snorts a bit but accepts that. "Well, I'm just stopping to pay a mutual friend of ours a visit. If anyone knows about a powerful demon moving about it'll be her."

"Oh, no…."

"C'mon, Fair, I can handle her. Can you wait around for a bit?"

"If she actually succeeds in her goal of dragging you into her bedchambers and deflowering you, it's going to take more than a bit."

"Deflower? The hell...no, you know what? Nevermind, I'm going to pretend you never said that word. She hasn't succeeded yet, what makes you think she'll succeed now?"

"Because, Dante, she's a succubus and she will never stop trying."

"Nice to know you have so much faith in my self control."

"On the other hand, you're right. You spend half your time surrounded by hot women and never get laid, so what am I worried about, really?"

"Fara, with you always turning me down when I ask you to marry me, how is my poor, shattered heart ever supposed to mend itself long enough to think of another woman?"

"You're a slob and I'd bore you within a week," Fara laughs. "All right, all right, I don't have anything to do; I can stick around for a while."

"Thanks, Fair. If Enzo shows up tell him I'm still not doing that job he laid money on."

"Okay."

"And if he hits on you turn him into a frog or something."

He hangs up before Fara can retort and she shakes her head, dropping the phone back into its cradle. She settles in Dante's chair to wait, tapping the cassette and letting her thoughts wander.

She'd heard the undertone in his voice. Not worry. She doesn't think Dante even knows what that is. Caution, maybe, but even faced with something he's never come across before Dante will just charge headfirst guns blazing. Ordinarily it works in the end.

So why, she wonders, this feeling of unease that won't go away?

In between her and Dante and everyone else he knows in the business there's nothing at least one of them hasn't come across before. Is there?


	5. If These Walls Could Speak

It's the smell that strikes her first.

Lady pauses at the end of the hallway, her suitor stopping to grin back at her, mistaking her sudden caution for fear. "Don't worry, people kind of avoid this hallway but it's never been dangerous." He moves forward as if to put an arm around her and she steps smoothly out of the way, preoccupied with identifying the smell.

"Blood…" she murmurs, more to herself than him. It's unmistakable, that metallic stink she can almost taste in the back of her throat.

"Yea," the man turns his head and points down the hall toward the room at the end. "That's where it comes from. The police tore it apart because they refused to believe there wasn't a body in there but they never found anything. Then some girl died in there and the landlord locked it up and won't let anyone go in. For all the good that does, the lock is broken…" He grins over his shoulder at her again, which changes to a frown when he takes in her expression. She looks disturbed, yes, but not totally freaked out.

Coming to a sudden decision, he starts down the hallway toward the room. Lady stirs as she realizes what he's doing and starts down the hall after him. "Wait…"

"Don't worry, the landlord never comes up here," he says, mistaking her alarm. "Not getting scared, are you?" He twists the knob and after a moment of resistance it turns. He pushes the door open boldly and moves inside.

Lady swears under her breath and charges after him, her hand sliding under her skirt to the gun strapped to her thigh. She's so focused on stopping him she barely manages to keep from crashing into his back when she gets through the doorway. He's stopped a few feet inside, body stiff as he stares. The smell of blood is so thick in here, Lady gags as she regains her balance and looks around, her eyes widening.

It's raining blood in the room. Thick, dark streams of black-red falling from the ceiling in long drips to pool on the floor, seeming to soak into the floorboards. It runs over the walls slowly, in some places it drips down, in others it drips up. Here and there it coils into odd letters that cover the wall.

Dully, Lady looks down at the floor and the edges of the room, seeing how much is caked everywhere, blackened thick blood building up in the corners and where the floors and walls meet. How long this blood has been dripping she can't tell. Days? Months? No wonder the scent is so strong. All those layers upon layers of new blood running over old.

She's heard of demons that can make the walls bleed, but if there's a demon here, it's not showing itself. In fact she can't feel anything in that regard. Usually demons give off some kind of weird scent or aura of power, something that hints to their presence.

Not here…everything feels normal in here. Except the room is freaking bleeding.

In her study of the room, Lady has forgotten about her suitor. The man, after getting over his initial shock, has drifted a bit further into the room, eyes fixed on a wall where writing drawn in blood has been appearing over and over. It's in a language he can't possibly read, and yet it seems to draw him.

His feet slip a little on the blood as he crosses the room. The squelching sound his shoes make in the mess brings Lady out of her horrified reverie. "What are you doing?" The sharp tone of her voice doesn't stop him. He walks up to the writing and lays his hands on it, blood smearing under his palms as he leans forward toward the moving words, so close his nose almost brushes the wall.

"What are you doing?" Lady's voice is softer this time, her eyes wide as she makes her way across the room towards him.

He runs his tongue up the wall, smearing some of the letters. She smells burning meat and a thin line of smoke drifts up, creating a weird picture since all she can see is the back of his head.

"It's speaking to me. It's telling me secrets…" The man can barely whisper it through his now blasted tongue, the words slurred and almost incomprehensible. Lady grabs his shoulder and tries to pull him away. He resists, trying to pull back, and slips on the blood, nearly taking her with him. He laughs as his back hits the floor. He starts clawing handfuls of old caked blood from the bottom of the wall and smearing it over his face, laughing happily all the while.

Horrified, Lady tries again to drag him up but he pulls away from her again and crawls over to the next wall, clawing at the faded, bloodstained wallpaper with his hands. They sink into it up to his wrists, gouts of black-red spurting from the wounds to pour over his hands and arms.

She doesn't follow him this time, some instinct telling her he's beyond her help and it would be suicide to follow. She starts backing away, her head reeling, her boots sliding in the blood on the floor. The man has continued to claw his way through and the wall gives way. By the time she reaches the door he's almost completely swallowed, the sick wet sound of it making her stomach roil.

The turns away, stumbling into the hall, and bends over slightly, breathing hard and trying not to retch, closing her eyes tight. Once she's sure she isn't going to throw up, she straightens up, unable to stop herself from glancing back over her shoulder.

At first she doesn't register what she's seeing. Because it's so _normal_.

No blood.

It's an old, slightly deteriorated studio apartment. Unfurnished, the windows blank and bare, the floorboards covered with a thick layer of dust.

"What…?"

But there are bloody footprints just outside the door, leading up to her boots, which are caked with the stuff.

She steps up to the doorway and peers in cautiously, looking around. Nothing.

Except…

In the corner diagonal to her, across the room, there's a hand sticking out of the wall, fingers curled slightly inward. And she can still taste that metallic stink in the back of her throat.

There's a sickening crunch and a sucking sound and the hand disappears into the wall as if pulled through. A single, thin line of blood seeps down from the spot where it was.

Her bizzareness quota is completely filled then. She doesn't investigate further, backing away from the door and striding down the hallway quickly. She feels the same way she used to when she was a little girl and had to go get something in the basement of her house. The lights switch had been across the room from the stairs, so she had to turn the light off and then cross half the basement in the dark. Sometimes she'd hurry as fast as she could because she was afraid if she turned around she'd see something coming from the darkness at her, the fear real enough she could almost _feel_ the thing coming at her before she would reach the stairs.

She gets that feeling now, not quite running, but fighting the urge to. But she's not a little girl anymore, and she's already seen what horrors come out of the dark. So instead of running she pulls her gun and turns…

…to face the empty hallway.

The door to the room slams shut.


	6. More Questions Than Answers

The doorman doesn't want to let him in but Dante simply stands there and repeats who he wants to see over and over. The flustered man, probably realizing this big man standing oh, so politely in the lobby is going to be a challenge to have security take away without a scene, finally calls up and returns telling him Ms. Smith will see him.

He gets a lot of double takes and stares as he walks across the smooth marble of the floor, the well dressed upper crust staring with surprise and distaste at this intruder to their world. Dante winks at a lady in furs and diamonds standing by the elevator and she moves off in a huff, leaving him alone when the elevator opens and alone when he steps in. Just the way he likes it.

There's a man in the elevator to press the button and everything and he keeps glancing at Dante nervously. Every time Dante catches his eye he stares at him until the human looks away, trying very hard not to fidget. The elevator is as fancy as the rest of the building, the walls are mirrors of polished brass he can see a hazy reflection in and his feet sink into the red carpet. He can practically hear the elevator man's sigh of relief as they reach the right floor and Dante exits.

Her butler lets him in and points silently through an open doorway. Because the man manages to make the gesture an order, Dante doesn't move immediately, turning his head to take the grand entrance hall in. Mosaics of flowers and winding vines decorate every ceiling, crafted from tile and precious stones. Ignoring the butler clearing his throat, Dante wanders into the opposite room, some kind of sitting room with a lush blue carpet and uncomfortable looking furniture of dark wood. There are red flowers everywhere, bouquets of roses, lilies, poppies, dozens of other varieties. All red and fresh.

She's been married many times over, to very rich men every time, and it's left her obscenely rich. The fact she's made it a point to just outlive her husbands and let them die a natural death is one of the reasons he's made no real attempt to kill her. She could easily have killed them off and never get caught. She is a succubus after all.

The musky scent of her hits him before she enters, overpowering the flowers. Then the soft brush of bare feet on the carpet comes towards him as he turns to face her, presenting herself in the doorway precisely as she wants him to see her. She always does love making an entrance.

On the surface, she's merely an astonishingly beautiful woman. Long black hair falls nearly to her waist, framing a voluptuous body sheathed in a silk dress that flaunts more than it hides. Her eyes study him with carnal hunger she can never manage to hide completely, the same way neither he, or Trish, or Fara can ever completely hide what they are. At the moment they're a vivid purple, but he knows it's an illusion, her eyes are demon red. It's one of many small illusions she uses to fool a world that doesn't believe in her anyway.

"Dante."

Her voice is a purr, low and husky and inviting, but the way she moves across the floor reminds him of a predator. She slides up and latches onto him before he realizes what she's doing, fastening her mouth to his and pressing her body against him, wriggling expertly without appearing to move at all. Her allure is powerful enough that his breath comes short and his body heats up, even knowing what she is. He brings his hands up and seizes her by the arms, pushing her roughly away from him, which only makes her purr more. She licks her lips and gazes up at him, held at arm's length. "Not even going to play a little bit?"

"Your games are never as much fun for me as they are for you. You cheat." He lets her go and backs up a few steps, shoving his hands into his pockets and staring at her. The cold, suspicious look in his eyes makes her back up a pace and eye him warily, teasing forgotten. Usually, Dante just brushes her off with a flippant remark or an insult but he's on edge and angry now. And her own slate certainly isn't clean enough she's sure it isn't something she did that pissed him off.

She turns and pads over to one of the couches and stretches out on it comfortably, arranging her dress so it falls artfully over her thighs and leaves most of her legs exposed. It's a nice view but Dante knows better than to enjoy it too much. He remains standing, looking at her. "Any of your old friends from hell stop by for a visit?"

She blinks at him. "No one of importance…" Her eyes narrow. "If you're asking me did I go back on our deal, then no. I haven't helped anyone from below get a foothold here since you warned me off." Her tone turns bitter. "After striking a deal with the son of the great traitor Sparda, none of them would trust me anyway."

"Awww."

She glares at him. "If there's a problem out there, it's nothing to do with me, son of Sparda. Try that little bitch Mundus created."

"Shut up."

She smirks at him. "My, my, you really _are_ tense. What's going on that would shake the unshakable Dante, righteous sword of the human race?"

He pulls out a scrap of paper Fara gave him the other night and tosses it at her. She unfolds it with a bored look and scans a few of the words Fara had let him scrawl down, looking it over.

Hiding her emotions is something she's very good at, something her kind are good at, but he sees it. The way she goes stiff, and the way her fingers tighten on that tiny scrap of paper, making it crumple again. "Where did you get this?" There's a tremble in her voice, barely perceptible.

"It's from a manuscript a bunch of idiots were dancing around in a graveyard last night. With a couple burned corpses thrown into the mix. Fara let me write out a few words from it…"

He doesn't get to finish. She's on her feet, almost stumbling, pointing at him with a trembling finger. "Get out."

The words don't throw him off but the way she looks, almost sick, makes him pause. He's never seen her any less than poised. She gestures toward the door wildly with a shaking hand. "Get out!"

"But I just got here."

"Get out! You might bring this on me! It might be brought on me because I _know_ you!" She flies at him, dark energy crackling around her fingers. She almost breaks her nose against the barrel of his gun as he whips it out faster than she can get to him. He cocks it calmly to show her he's serious and they stand for a long moment, glaring at each other. Her eyes are still wide…and fearful.

Dante forces his voice to stay calm. "All right, babe. I don't want to break my promise not to kill you, but I'm kind of on the edge here. All sorts of shit is suddenly happening that I haven't dealt with before, so if you have some information you'd kindly like to pass on I'll be on my way."

She glares at him but seems to realize through her panic that she won't be able to get rid of him immediately. Her hands drop very slowly to her sides. "It's written in demonic tongue, but no demon wrote it. It will spread to you and anyone involved with you and anything you fucking touched for all I know. It's like a plague no one can touch and it's not even supposed to _be_ in this world."

"What is it?"

"Madness. Chaos."

"Sounds like a demon to me."

"Demons have a form." She turns away and sits down on her couch. "And that's all I can tell you. If you want to kill me for it go ahead. It might actually be merciful."

He holds the gun on her for a long moment, silent, waiting, but she doesn't say anything else and her face is turned away from it. She's not bluffing.

He leaves.


	7. Girl Talk

It takes her three days to get to Dante's. Normally she wouldn't ask for the help but she hasn't survived as a demon hunter as long as she has by not realizing when she was in over her head.

She pushes the door to his office open without knocking, expecting him to be at his desk this time of day.

She stops short. Well, there's someone behind Dante's desk, but it isn't him. The woman studies her with calm, curious eyes that strike Lady as being a bit off somehow. Blank red eyes.

Demon…

Lady's hand drops to one of her guns automatically though she can't see how this demon would be much of a threat. She looks like she'd shatter if you breathed on her too hard.

The demon raises her hands to show she's not armed, brows furrowed. "Who are you?"

Lady cautiously lets her hand drop from her gun. "My name is Lady, I'm a demon hunter. Like Dante." She adds that final part with some emphasis, not ready to drop her guard quite yet. Whoever she is, Dante isn't around…where is he?

Fara cocks her head now. "You are? I finally get to meet Dante's infamous Lady?"

Lady blinks. "I…what?"

"He'll be here in a bit. He had to stop by to visit my aunt. I don't think she'll manage to get him into bed this time, but she's very good at it so maybe she might succeed for once. And really, who can begrudge him a little fun?" Fara's voice is very matter-of-fact.

"What are you talking about? Who _are_ you?" Lady's voice is irritated and…Fara raises her eyebrows…is that a hint of jealousy? Well isn't that interesting.

"My name is Fara, I'm just a friend of Dante's."

"That's a demon name."

"Actually, it's the name of a human author who wrote…"

" _Your_ name."

Fara smirks. "I'm half, just like Dante. Well, not _just_ like him, no one is like Dante. My family likes to put emphasis on the demonic part of our blood."

"Your family is _proud_ of it?" Lady can't hide her disgust.

"My dear, they worked very hard to get that demon blood in there," she taps her chest lightly with a wry smile on her lips. "You might as well pull up a chair and relax, unless you'd rather leave a message or something."

"I'll wait…" Lady tugs a stool over to the other side of the desk and perches on it. Fara nods and runs her fingers over her walking stick idly.

Lady studies her for a long moment, trying to figure out what's so off about the scene. The staff the half demon is holding on her lap seems to be carved of bone but it has no markings or decorations on it that she can see. When Fara looks up again it clicks. No wonder her eyes are blank, she can't see anything.

"Yes, I'm blind. So, why did you come to see Dante?" Lady actually jumps a little bit. Fara's habit of using words like weapons, stabbing with one topic and parrying with another, is not endearing her to Lady.

The demon hunter shrugs, her worry starting to come back. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you…I'm not sure I believe it."

"In the past few days Dante gave me a demonic tome that's not a demonic tome and yet it is to translate. The words of this tome keep changing around so I can only translate it at its basics and _that_ was a struggle in and of itself, let me tell you. It's like the damned thing is alive and taunting me. To top it all off, Dante just called a while back and told me he can't investigate the place where he picked this tome up because the streets keep changing around when he tries to walk down them. Try me." Fara's voice is very matter-of-fact.

Lady looks at her sharply. "What do you mean a demonic tome that's not a demonic tome?"

"I'll explain that in fuller detail when Dante gets here because I'm not sure I could explain things twice, and you want an explanation for something, don't you?" It's in the tone of her voice and has Fara turning her head toward her, intent.

Lady looks at the clock, hoping time isn't being wasted even as they speak, decides she can do nothing really until Dante gets here, and looks back at Fara, starting to talk.


	8. Going Down

At least a demon would have let him get to the lobby, possibly even out the door before attacking him.

Because an elevator is a _really_ bad place to get into a fight.

Dante discovers this before they even make it two floors. It starts going wrong the second the doors close and the car starts rumbling down. Dante is in a foul mood so he doesn't bother taunting the elevator man this time. Instead he turns his head and looks at the fuzzy version of his reflection that shows up in the polished walls. When he squints, the reflection from the opposite wall creates a faint corridor of Dantes he thinks he can make out, versions of himself that get more and more indistinct until their mere blobs of faint white and red.

It is silent in the car, just the rumble of machinery and the nervous shuffling of the elevator man behind him. Dante can see his reflection too when he flicks his eyes to the right. The man's reflection turns his head slowly and looks at Dante, then grins. Dante looks behind him sharply, but the elevator man is looking at the numbers above the door, tapping his foot. And so is his reflection. But something is still off. It takes Dante a moment to realize the reflection is tapping his foot faster than the man actually is.

"Oh, hell."

"Sir?" The elevator man looks at him, startled.

"Well, I guess it wouldn't have been any better on the stairs." There's no room to pull his sword so he goes for his guns as both of their reflections turn and start toward them. The elevator dude makes a sort of high pitched squeaking sound and Dante shoves him down. His reflection reaches out and the wall ripples like water, the ripples spreading and spreading and spreading until the shining surface of every wall is moving busily. There's a loud grinding noise and the car jerks violently, throwing the human onto the floor and making Dante brace himself, fighting to keep his balance. The floor buttons explode outward in a shower of sparks and the elevator man screams. Dante pulls his hands away from the guns, and brings an arm up as the wall suddenly shudders and bulges inward, striking at him. He feels the jolt of it all the way up his arm and braces himself as the wall tries to pull him toward it. His other fist strikes out at the tentacle holding it, its surface as hard and shining as the wall it's made from.

Which is impossible. If it's bending and twisting like that it should have been soft, but his knuckles split and bleed as she pounds on it, denting but not breaking its hold.

It pulls him again, his hand and half of his upper arm disappearing into the wall. He feels pain rocket up the length of his arm and snarls, wrenching backward. The metal gives, raking his skin as he tries to pull it out. His body heals almost instantly but in this case it works against him, the healed skin torn open again in seconds. As if sensing it, the tentacle holding him sprouts dozens of spikes, spreading up his arm and stabbing him again and again as he heals. Dante grits his teeth and slams his fist into it again, jerking back with all his strength at the same time. The blood sheeting his arm from the wounds helps, making it easier for him to tear his arm free. He ducks as the tentacle lashes out at him and twists as another emerges from the second wall, metal groaning around him. The elevator man is screaming, blubbering, cowering on the floor with his arms over his head. Dante ignores him, growling as the tentacle beside him stabs its tip into its side and tries to burrow in, twisting sinuously. He rips free and twists, kicking out hard at the tentacle in front of him and the wall it came out of. The sheer amount of strength behind the kick makes the wall shudder, and even with the chaos around them the wall bends under the force of it. Dante kicks again, ignoring the slashing tentacles, sparks flying as the wall starts to break. Both tentacles retreat, sliding smoothly back into the wall's gleaming surface. Dante doesn't stop, smashing the wall once more. It's enough the wall finally gives, the darkness beyond the hole glaring against the bright light of the car.

The car shudders and jerks again and Dante hears the distinct sound of cables breaking above. Dante shoves his hands through the hole and rips the wall open, forcing it bigger bit by bit until he can fit. He reaches back and grabs the elevator guy, ignoring the man's shrieking, and pokes his head through the hole, judging the best place to aim for. As he pulls back, the hole starts to close and the walls ripple again. Dante backs up a step, dragging the elevator guy along with him, and kicks again, the wall bending outward and already starting to try and pull back together even as Dante bursts through it, lashing a hand out to grab one of the cables for the second car. Behind him, the elevator walls burst inward, shining brass spikes shooting out from all sides. Elevator man is still kicking and writhing, so his foot is still inside. His screams reach a fever pitch as the brass points shred his shoe and the flesh beneath it. Dante curses and jerks him forward, straining with all his might against gravity and the man's weight as the wall finishes closing. He manages to get the guy's foot free before it gets severed but he's bleeding profusely and Dante's willing to guess it won't take too long before he can't be saved. He's got to get him to one of the floors.

The sound of more cables breaking makes Dante look up and he curses again. The entire elevator car is jerking back and forth and back and forth, pulling itself free of its moorings below and above so it's hanging by one cord. It's still for a moment, and then starts swinging again, the loose cables writhing around it. Dante does the only thing he can do as the thing starts to swing at him like some hellish wrecking ball, dragging the elevator man up and letting go of the cable. The man isn't screaming anymore, probably in shock, which is the only relief Dante gets as he plunges down the elevator shaft with the human tucked under his arm.

They're in luck; the second car is coming up instead of going down. Dante can hear the screams inside as he lands on top of it. Prying open the door at the top of it, he gets a glimpse of several well dressed people staring up at him in shock as he drops the injured human into their midst and slams the door shut again, trusting the elevator man in that car will take care of his coworker even if the others won't. He doesn't have much time to think on it because the car is going up and the other elevator is swinging down to meet him. Cables whip around his arms and shoulders and he launches himself off the other car before they can tighten completely, swinging toward the wall to get it away from the people.

There's one good thing about being outside of the car and hanging on for dear life in the middle of an elevator shaft. He can pull his sword now.

He's got room and the civilians are out of the way.

Playtime, Dante's lips curve into a smile, is over.

Dante wrenches free enough to pull it, sparks flying as his sword tears through the cable. He falls a short way, out into more space…and transforms. Dark power explodes out from him, enough to shake the building around him. His remaining wounds close as his body reconfigures itself. He tucks his wings against his back, his claws tearing into the metal of the elevator. He feels the metal soften and try to drag him down but he moves fast enough it can't get a proper hold. He moves up, aiming for the top of the car and the remaining cables holding it up. Loose cables slash at him from all sides and his wings sweep out and down, tearing the cables loose and giving him more momentum.

The shriek of tortured metal as Dante slashes through the final cables is almost human.

Dante leaps free of the car as it falls, watching it plunge down the shaft and smash into the ground far, far below as he holds onto the wall.

He wonders if they'll find anything strange about the remains or, like everything so far, the power stalking him will leave no real sign of itself.

He pries open the doors right above him before he changes back and heads for the stairs, ignoring the gaping looks of people passing him by. He figures he doesn't need to tell them the elevator is out of order.


	9. Dead Girl

If anyone would have asked her how she could betray her own race, she would have laughed in their face.

She almost does laugh now as she sits outside the café and watches the masses of the ordinary pass by her. She can look into the eyes of anyone she meets and feel no remorse that she could be orchestrating their death even as she sits, aware they could be affected by the creeping sickness coming upon the city and unfazed by it.

In her mind they're already sick. Dull, brainless, banal creatures moving through the pathetic road they call a life. When she feels her rage rise at how trite the world around her is, she envisions it empty and still, populated only by corpses. It always calms and pleases her to think of the streets and buildings falling apart. Wood rotting, metal rusting, all over the decomposing bodies, which will turn into bones, which will turn into dust. Beautiful.

She takes a sip of coffee and stretches. Well, she can't kill all the people of the world, but sowing the seeds of chaos is almost as good. Especially since she'd come across this force she now…well, serves she supposes. She feels almost proud to be part of it no matter how small that part may be.

Because this force, this presence, is something she has no name for. And if _she_ can't even think of a way to describe it then regular sheep most certainly won't be able to. That's its true beauty. Unknown, unknowable. A mindless, formless parasite that weaves itself around the unsuspecting of the world, bending reality however it wishes. Even those supposedly well versed in the unseen world would be hard pressed to categorize such a thing. She glances in the direction she senses the manuscript is in, rising from her seat and moving down the sidewalk.

It just goes to show how useless planning is in these things. She had waited and watched for years after she'd placed the tome as a cult had built up around it. It had fed off the cult members bit by bit, spreading the power hidden behind those words. In just a few more years the numbers of souls corrupted and the number of people touched by it would have been enough. That power had created a web of itself through the people that had touched it, latching onto the cult members, spreading from them to the people they came in contact with in their normal lives and spreading from those people to other people, until there were very few in the entire city who didn't at least have some mark of it on them. There was no where it couldn't touch, no where it couldn't reach out to in some form.

But then along came that white hair beast in human skin. The carefully cultivated flock of worshippers had been wiped out in minutes and the book taken from its spot. An interference, but _what_ an interference! Instead of a slow build up of dread as the power started to take over the city, changing reality bit by bit, it feasted greedily on this half demon, this Dante…and honestly she doesn't now know what it will do. Destroy the half demon eventually, of course, but with the mixture of simple human energy and demon energy from all the half demon has met who knows what the chaotic power will do now. Destroy the world maybe.

The thought pleases her.

She watches him now as he comes from a nice building, moving from a back door and striding down the street, tense and on edge. And who can blame him, she can only imagine what he's just seen. He's quite handsome, she notes, she won't mind seducing him if the need arises. She doesn't follow Dante; she knows where he's going. Instead she turns her attention to the building he's just left. Obviously he went to see somebody and she's curious who they are and what affect his visit has had. She's not disappointed. So many people in that building he might have passed by on his way in and out…

An ambulance screeches up to a halt in front of the building but even as it does, whoever it came to pick up isn't the only one that needs help. Glass smashes from far above their heads as someone throws a chair through one of the windows. A woman dressed in a business suit climbs through and leaps off the sill. People below scream as she sails down, laughing hysterically, and smashes into the ground with the sound of screeching metal and crushed glass. As she dies, more screams erupt, tell tale flickering in one of the windows indicate a fire starting even before the fire alarms start going off. And then the whole building erupts into chaos so fast she can't keep track of everything at once. Someone runs out of the building screaming about being covered in spiders, struggling against the people holding onto him, trying to reassure him there's nothing on him even as bite marks appear all over his body and bleed. The entire floor at the top, where Dante spent the most time, seems to ripple, blood filling up the windows and leaking through the seals so each window becomes a waterfall of thick red, dripping down the body to patter down on the crowd below like rain. Whatever sense of calm people have been trying to maintain up until this point dissolves.

As people flee the scene, inadvertently doing their part to spread the chaos, the woman can't control herself anymore, the laughter rising from her throat to mix with the screams in the air.


	10. Stranger Than Fiction

Fara is behind his desk when he gets back, which is what he's expecting.

Lady is sitting on the other side of it, however, and that is a tad unexpected. He hasn't seen her for almost a year.

They both look up when he comes in, Fara turning toward the sound of his footsteps even before Lady sees him. He takes the two women in for a moment. Fara looks as tired and worn as he feels. Her skin is paler than usual and drawn and he's dealt with her enough to know she has to be feeling sick. Using that stone allows her to see to some extent, enough she can translate those manuscripts no one else can translate for her without going mad, but it takes a horrific toll on her. He's seen her completely debilitated for weeks afterward from the strain of using the thing. It makes him feel slightly guilty for asking her to translate that one; he wouldn't have done it if he'd had another alternative.

Lady looks good, as usual. He's careful not to let his eyes drift too far south of her jaw-line, taking her in with a swift glance. She's wearing jeans and a denim vest today, not fighting gear, so she's come for some other reason than back up. As far back as he can remember Lady has never shown up on his doorstep unless she needs something.

He shakes off thoughts like that, the past is past and things are how they are. He smiles at her as she pushes herself away from his desk, interrupting his greeting with her usual impatience. "I met up with something really strange a few days ago, your friend here seems to think it's connected to this book you found."

Dante looks over at Fara, who is getting out of his chair. She smirks at him. "How did your talk with Auntie Dearest go? Did she give you a lecture about the practical ways to go about an orgy?"

"She didn't get the chance. Oh, that reminds me, I still don't know the answer to this; how do you manage to be blood related to a succubus like that and end up being…well, like you?"

Fara stiffens slightly. It's not the insult that puts her back up but the way he says it. Not with his usual good natured jeer, but forced and falsely cheerful. About as unDantelike as possible. "Dante…"

"She pretty much took one look at that page you translated for me and tossed me out. She didn't seem to like what she saw."

Fara blinks, surprised and Lady speaks impatiently again. "So, now that he's here, do you mind telling me what the hell this book is all about?"

"Sounds like a good idea to me…" Dante looks down at the book and Lady is unnerved to see he seems wary of touching it. Dante is very clearly on his guard, eyeing the thing with trepidation. "Although….I think it might be best if we got rid of this damned thing. Something really weird is going on and it all seems to come back to that cult and this book."

"What happened?" Fara says sharply. Dante looks at her, then at Lady, and then gives a brief rundown of what happened in the elevator. Both women listen to his tale silently, Lady wide eyed and Fara looking grim. After he's finished, Fara nudges Lady into telling him about her own strange encounter, which has Dante shaking his head, confounded, by the time she's through. He looks to the sorceress, who is standing across from him, her slim fingers resting on the cover of the book. "What is it, Fair?" His voice is quiet. "What's happening here? You said it seemed demonic but this isn't demon power."

"Chaos."

The two demon hunters stare at her. That one simple word carries a chill within it that makes the room seem darker and colder than it was before. Fara strokes the book, looking down at it with an odd mixture of revulsion and fascination on her face that puts Dante on edge because he's seen it before. Fara, he believes completely, is good at heart but her curiosity and willingness to walk that fine gray area between good and evil makes him uneasy at times. It's not a good sign this book elicits such a response from her. She looks up and not for the first time he wonders if she can read his thoughts. Those calm red eyes fix eerily on his, focusing on him and yet completely unseeing. She leaves off touching the book and picks up the tape recorder, setting it on the desk. "Some of it was in several forms of demonic language, often alternating between different ones and human languages from word to word, which was annoying. Specifically, it uses the three languages most common among the higher ranks of demons and used in spells and rituals and the like…"

"Fara?" Dante has his "get to the freaking point" tone in his voice. "You're veering off into Nerdland where we can't follow you."

She nods, trying not to get sidetracked. "Right, sorry. Anyway, not only are the languages all mixed up, but the words keep changing and rearranging themselves."

"That's impossible," Lady says, almost scoffing though there's a hint of fear in her voice. Because she knows that while it is impossible, so has a lot of the stuff that's happened over the past few days.

Fara shrugs and reaches for the tape recorder, feeling around for it on the desk. "Read it for yourself, obviously it's already tainted you, reading it now won't do any harm."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Lady's voice rises a bit and Dante looks over at her.

Fara presses the play button and her own voice comes from the tiny speaker, speaking in an almost chant like rhythm and tight with pain from the toll the eyestone is taking on her while she translates. It doesn't take away from the rolling wave of words that manage to be ridiculous and utterly terrifying at the same time. As if the book has a seething mind of its own and is voicing its alien thoughts through Fara's lips. Indeed, the blind woman murmurs along with the words, though Dante doubts she knows she's doing it.

" _We are I am that song that taste that rapture of symmetry thrown into the rupturing pestilence I am I am what we are within you within me around around this we are here I am there within the lovely depth of blood and starry blackness within the web within the spread within the spreading darkness…"_

"Turn it off." Lady doesn't wait for Fara to do it, reaching over and shoving the stop button down with enough force to send the tape recorder skidding a few inches. She feels like if she has to listen to anymore of that babbling, she'll go crazy. It's just a jumble of words thrown together like poetic nonsense but it chills her to the bone. Maybe because even Fara's calm, chanting voice can't hide the madness that roils in those words. She stares at the book.

"What is this thing, Fara?" Dante manages to keep his voice calm, though he's not much better off than Lady.

Fara seems paler than she was a moment ago and Dante actually rises and makes her sit down. She lifts a shaking hand up to push a strand of jet black hair away from her face and takes a deep breath. She was feeling tired and sick before but just listening to it seems to amplify that feeling by a factor of ten. "It's chaos," she finally whispers. "Did you hear all that about spreading and the web and the spread, and all that? That continues, all the way through what I managed to get through and even when it all changed around and I had to retranslate it that remains a subject it keeps coming back to. Spreading, a web of mortality as it calls it later on in the book. Weaving through the veils of worlds."

"Like a…like a disease or something?" Lady says very quietly.

Fara looks up at her thoughtfully and nods. "That's a good way to describe it, yes. It came to you because Dante found it and you knew Dante, so somehow this power…this chaos…went to you through him. How, I don't know, this isn't a power I can detect or trace or follow. I don't know how it spreads. I don't know where it came from. I do know that saying it wants to destroy anything is an understatement."

"Do you have any idea how to stop it?" Fara looks up at the tone of Dante's voice and reaches out instinctively, laying her hand on her friend's for a moment. He allows it, even seeming to take comfort from it for a moment before he pulls away. She's never heard Dante sound so tired. He's one of the bravest and strongest people she knows, but this is an enemy he can't fight one on one and face to face. For all his power, he seems powerless and she knows it's driving him crazy. Before she can speak, he interrupts, an edge to his voice she's never heard before. "It went to Lady because I picked up that damned thing, and she wasn't anywhere near me. What if I've been spreading this…power…just from walking around today? I passed through a ton of people in the building and on the street. What if every person I passed by is tainted by this thing now?"

"You can't know that, none of us have dealt with something like this before," Fara objects.

Lady nods in agreement, obviously as bothered by the whole thing as he is. "Even if that is how this thing is moving around, you guys said a cult had built up around it. If it goes from person to person, they probably spread it around long ago. And on purpose. You can't have done as much damage as they have already."

"Finding a way to destroy the book might be a good way to start, though it's pretty much guaranteed that's not going to be easy. You should take it out of time come nightfall when there's no one around to try it." Fara turns her head toward Dante. "I have to go home and rest at least for a while before I can't even think, but once I recover a little bit, I'll look deeper into it. I'll help you find a way to stop it though whatever means I possess. I promise you. There's a way. There always is. And what better two are there to fight something that's never been fought before?"

She smiles and for the first time in hours Dante manages a chuckle, glancing at Lady. "You are gonna try your hand at kicking this thing's ass, right?"

Lady cocks an eyebrow at him. "Of course. This could be a world threatening situation we have here, do you think I'm going to risk leaving it up to you two to stop it? We'd all be doomed."


	11. Dissolution

"I love Fara. She can babble on for two hours and not say a goddamned thing," Dante snorts as they step out of the office. He pauses as he gets a good look around and turns and locks the door, suddenly glad he made Fara rest in his office rather than going home.

When he'd passed through the streets perhaps a half hour ago, things had been getting weird. There were people looking distinctly nervous, a few crazies wandering around shouting nonsense and a few other things, but nothing that would cause a panic. No longer. Walking past his office right in front of him is a young couple, strolling arm and arm and laughing softly, looking up at each other. The top of the girl's head is a bloody ruin of torn skin and flesh with tufts of hair still trailing out of it, and even as Dante and Lady watch, she reaches up and rips out one of them, handing it to her lover who adds it to the handful he already has in his free hand.

They watch them pass silently. Not even Dante has a quip for this one.

Like sleepwalkers, the two demon hunters walk on the edge of the city as it falls apart around them.

Here, a man dressed in the robes of a priest straddles the body of another man, smiling benevolently, chanting in Latin as he smashes a heavy silver bowl down on the remains of the dead man's head.

There, a woman dressed in a police officer's uniform sits staring vacantly up at the sky, blood dripping from her mouth. Whether it's hers or someone else's Dante can't tell and doesn't want to know.

There's nothing overtly creepy manifesting yet, nothing like Dante's elevator or Lady's bleeding walls. The streets, as they pass them, stay as they are. But that weird creeping dread he'd gotten when the streets were changing is here now. That feeling of something waiting out of the corner of his eye, hiding somewhere no eye could see is with him now as they move through the streets.

Lady feels the overwhelming urge to giggle and stops herself, horrified, realizing with a jolt that it's getting to her too. She clamps down with that strict discipline that's allowed her to hunt demons despite the fact she's human, focusing, forcing herself to ignore the way the world seems to be going fuzzy around her. Chaos, she remembers, slowly starting to grasp what Fara, in her roundabout way, was trying to explain. This is just the beginning, dissolving order, slowly remaking reality into what they…whatever they are…can exist in.

Rubbing the boundaries between this one and some other place never meant to exist in this nice, neat, three dimensional reality.

Like demons in some way. The thought helps, fits it in a way she can understand and brings a surge of hatred and rage through her. Willing to destroy the people of this world to make it the way they wanted it to be. "Destroy the book, yeah, that's going to help," she mutters.

Dante shrugs, carrying the thing under his arm. "It's a start."

He seems much calmer than she feels and that irritates her. "We _should_ be hunting the source of…whatever this thing is…and trying to destroy it."

"Okay," Dante says easily. "Lead the way, where do we start?"

She clamps her mouth shut and glares ahead, rolling her shoulders to relieve some of the tension building up in her muscles. "I just don't see how destroying the book instead of trying to use it is going to do any good."

"It all started with the thing…" Dante trails off, stopping for a moment, holding the book up and looking at it.

"Yes, but it's already served its purpose, basically, it brought this presence here…Dante?" She realizes he's no longer walking beside him and pauses, looking back.

It all started with the book…and the cult, Dante thinks. In the excitement and insanity, he'd forgotten about them, forgotten the streets had started changing when he'd tried to go back. Why? Just to fuck with him? Possibly. But then again…

"Dante?" There's irritation in Lady's voice now.

"Changing direction," he informs her, turning so he's striding toward Forum Blvd, unaware of Lady's glare at his back.

"I'd put a bullet in the back of your head if I thought it'd do any damage," she mutters.

"Having a head like a rock has its advantages."

Lady finds his sudden cheerfulness slightly obscene compared to the madness around them. She hurries to catch up with him. "Where are we going?"

"Back to the place where I found the book."

"With the changing streets?"

"Well, if they're doing that it was either just to be a pain or because the Whatever the Hell It Is doesn't want anyone going there, either way at least it's somewhere to start. And maybe…"

He trails off and falls silent for a few minutes. It's not like him and makes Lady study him with a hint of worry. Dante moves around so they can avoid a group of people dancing in a circle in the middle of the street, their movements jerky and erratic. He finally glances back at her. "Like you said, it came through the book, maybe that place and that book together can get us through to wherever it came from."


	12. We're All Mad Here

They aren't welcome.

The streets don't even have a pretense of normalcy anymore. Lady is so on edge when the soft click of footsteps on pavement comes from behind them she whips around, her gun in her hand.

Fara stands a few feet behind them, both of her small hands wrapped around the middle of her walking stick. She still looks pale and sick, even more so than before, but she shakes her head even before Dante can speak. "I can't sleep...I couldn't even make it down the block. I can hear screaming from every direction. And laughing."

Her voice is shaky and Dante takes a step toward her. She reaches a hand out toward him gently. She's left her sunglasses behind and her eyes gleam, wine red, a weird light gleaming from behind them. Sick, tired, yes...but Lady can see the same rage in Fara's eyes that stirs in Dante's. And her own, probably.

Fara's eyes flick to Lady and again there's that eerie sense of being focused on without being seen. "You can feel it, can't you? Clawing at your mind? I can too." She looks at Dante. "You're Sparda's son, so it's taking longer for it to get to you. It will suck us all dry. And grow as it feeds."

"Stop it, Fara," Dante's voice is low.

She falls silent for a long moment, then stares at him. "Get us down the damn street."

He nods once. Fara takes the book from him and sucks in a breath, her fingers tightening on it. For a long moment she seems to struggle with something and Lady has to turn her face down because the angle of the buildings around her suddenly seems off, it makes her eyes hurt. But the ground isn't any better, the pavement _squirming_ beneath her feet and yet it feels perfectly solid.

There's nowhere she can look that brings comfort, not even the insides of her eyelids.

Fara is clutching the book, muttering to herself. "Demons want power. Yes. They'll do anything for power, even go digging around for something they can't understand and could never control..."

"Fara..." Dante clamps a hand on her shoulder and her head jerks up, her eyes wide. She breathes out and closes her eyes for a moment, and then points down the road. "There."

There's no people around as they move down the street. Even people in the throes of madness are smart enough to stay away.

Dante brings up the rear, his face set in a way very few have seen before, a cold focus that only comes when he's reached the absolute limit. His form ripples without him realizing it, just a hint of dark energy rippling below the surface of his form, ready to break free at the slightest provocation.

Fara leads the way, her power much less than his but the lack of one sense lending her a small measure of shielding. Because of this, she walks beside Lady, one slim hand across the human woman's eyes, the other holding her arm, guiding her because Lady won't go back and even if she did...where would she go?

Fara's guiding him on pure instinct now. She has no other form to shift to but like him she can tap into the power of her blood and she's using that now to see through to the source of the mess.

Dante's the only one looking as chaos reigns. The streets shift from one moment to the next but he keeps his eyes on Fara and Lady in front of him. Now he sees the trick for what it is and ignores it, waiting, sword drawn.

Fara makes a warning sound and throws some kind of barrier around her and Lady a second before the entire area warps. The buildings around them explode, rubble spiraling out. He doesn't think, just reacts, sword a wild blur in the air around them. Rocks, wood, none of it gets past the blade.

Lady cries out in shock and revulsion as her foot sinks into the ground, dragging Fara along as well. It sucks at her leg, burning, warm and wet and pulsing like flesh. Fara braces herself and Lady uses that, grunting as she rips herself free. Blood spurts out, pouring over the ground and a low shriek seems to come from deep inside the earth. Fuck it if she's hurt it, it just tried to eat her.

She pulls her gun as Dante drags both of them clear of the sinking ground. She doesn't give a damn if she'll be shooting rocks or even air, she's going to go down shooting.

Dante's sword carves a path in the air again and then...

The street is normal again.

Utterly still.

Except there's a woman standing at the intersection ahead of them. Laughing.

She smiles at them brightly, holding the book in her hands, seemingly oblivious to the fact Dante and Lady both have guns trained on her. "Thank you for bringing this back. It won't do you any good now, but it's still nice to have it again."

Dante knows that voice somehow.

Her voice is bright, happy. Impossibly young and girlish. Grotesque. Because this woman left girlhood behind a long, long time ago. She stands tall and straight, her yellowed teeth bared in a happy grin, her hair still more gold than white. But her face is lined and wrinkled and sags like it's about to slough off her skull. Her skin is so dry and leathery it's cracked in several places, blood oozing over her skin, and her veins draw lines just beneath the surface, pulsing and black. Her hands are twisted and Dante can almost hear the bones crack as she tightens them around the book.

"Tea time!" She starts to prance in place, giggling, hugging the book to her chest like a child with a beloved book of fairy tales. "Hero, what can you do now? Just sit back and watch the world bleed bleed bleed bleed..."

 _Tea time..._ A memory of his swims to the surface, hazy but growing clearer.

"Put the book down!" Lady cocks her gun with a loud click, her voice shaky but growing stronger. Fara is watching Dante sharply.

The woman ignores them all, dancing outright now. "Tea time! Cake of meat! Spoon of bone! Tea of blood! And there's nothing you can do."

It clicks, that voice, those words.

Not especially beautiful. Or strong. Or pure. Not anymore.

Dante's voice is remarkably calm as he says the two words that stop the apparition in its place, her smile freezing into an ugly, shocked rictus.

"Hello, Alice."


	13. The End or Something Like It

Alice.

Dante hears Lady pull in a sharp breath.

Of course, who was a better tool to use than Alice?

One of his first assignments after opening Devil May Cry. What he thought was a rescue mission: save a little girl from demons. But Alice hadn't wanted to be saved. Had traded her purity in order to grow up faster.

And boy, had she ever. By his estimation, she couldn't have been more than twenty or so.

Poor kid. He'd warned her.

Her mouth opens and closes wordlessly and she stares at him. She brandishes the book at him as if it will ward him off. "No name!"

"I remember you, kid. Didn't like your end of the bargain, so you decided to take it out on the world?"

"You bitch, you set all this off..." Lady's voice has gone deadly and Dante knows it'll only be a matter of time before she can't hold herself back.

Alice shrieks and leaps at him as the world explodes around them again.

Fara can hear Dante and Lady moving, fighting together. She ignores the sick sound and voices pressing inside her head, seizing on one hopeful idea.

No way to stop it, that was right. But if she could find where Alice had come through, had started using the book and set everything in motion...

She's not up for a major spell, she's useless in a fight right now. But she has enough for one small one...

She hopes it will be enough.

There's no possible way Alice's body can shift and change that way without killing her, but it does anyway. It contorts with a hideous cracking sound, spouting extra arms, legs, limbs that were physically impossible

Lady's shot knocks her off balance enough Dante and bring his sword down. It slices through her with sickening ease, but she only pulls one half of her back toward the other, reforming into an even more twisted figure.

So Dante slices her in half again. And again.

Lady backs away as she hears someone calling to her. Fara has collapsed further down the street and spikes of stone are digging into her even as Lady moves toward her. While Alice is after Dante, the street seems to be focused on the other half demon. Lady pulls her away from the ground and winces as the movement causes the ground to shear away parts of the skin on Fara's legs. Fara leans against her and points, gasping, to a tiny cemetery closed in between several buildings.

It takes Lady a moment to figure out what she's done, then her eyes widen. "What the hell..."

"Very apt," Fara gasps.

Whatever portal Alice crawled out of, Fara has reopened it.

Lady can see the swirls of unholy mist beyond, and dark shapes gathering. Can hear eager shrieks as demons beyond it take notice.

It's obviously taken whatever strength Fara has left. She can barely hold herself upright. She grips Lady hard. "The book. And the girl. In. Quick!"

Lady lets go of her and runs back to Dante. Fara struggles to hold herself upright, clutching her head, actually _feeling_ her mind start to come loose from its moors.

There's a discharge of wild energy as Dante shifts form. Alice screeches.

There's a sweep of shadowy wings and Dante is in front of the portal, Alice in one hand, dragging her by the hair, and the book in the other.

He plunges through.

Lady rushes in after him before she thinks. There aren't any major demons gathering yet but plenty of minor ones are lurching through the rapidly clearing mist. Dante tears the book in half, sending the pages scattering around in a shower of paper. He throws the Alice-thing toward the demons.

Outside, struggling to keep the doorway from opening further, Fara holds her breath.

It started off feeding on Alice when she freed it here, demon touched. It gathered strength feeding on Dante, then Fara, then Lady, all demon touched in varying degrees. It's only had humans to feed on for the past hours.

Outside, the human city goes still.

Inside the doorway, in the demon world, the demons hesitate. So many at once, it's too tempting. Dante and Lady _feel_ that chaos...sickness...whatever, sweep past them, something cold and hungry and so outside what they can stand just the mere brush of it is enough to make them flinch.

Dante grabs her and hauls her back through the doorway. He sees clearly what she only gets a glimpse of. The Alice-thing screams and tries to scramble towards them as the demons, hundreds of them, explode into violence. Madness.

When it comes to inventive ways to destroy each other, humans have nothing on demons. Even Dante has to look away.

As soon as their through, the doorway slams shut.

It's just the three of them in her apartment at night. Dante, Fara, and Lady. Outside it's eerily quiet. The city is in a state of shock. Not for the first time. And probably not for the last.

They're all trying not to think about what the demons unleashed and if it would come back to their world.

Lady winces as Dante tapes up the last of her wounds. Fara is slumped in a chair, resting. Lady's not sure she's awake as she speaks: "It's not completely gone, is it?"

"Probably not," Fara says. "But enough of it."

"It'll be interesting if Mundus ends up coming face to face with that shit," Dante says thoughtfully.

Lady looks at him. She can't believe he's so calm about it all. "Or maybe it'll take over everything and we'll have worse than demons breaking through."

"I doubt it," Fara leans back in her seat.

Dante finishes with the wound on her hand and leans back. He smirks tiredly. "Anyway, after all this, _normal_ demon hunting will seem very boring."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alice, by the by, actually was a character from the DMC manga, which is quite good, I recommend it for more chaotic shenanigans featuring everyone's favorite half demon twins.


End file.
